


…And Chocolate

by AirgiodSLV



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-21
Updated: 2005-02-21
Packaged: 2019-07-20 10:42:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16135583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirgiodSLV/pseuds/AirgiodSLV
Summary: There isn’t much to do after a late night of shooting besides watch porn, especially when you’re too tired to hang out with friends at one of the local pubs, or when you’ve had a few drinks with said friends at one of the local pubs, and are now pleasantly buzzed but still too wired to fall asleep immediately.





	…And Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> For the [](https://slashyvalentine.livejournal.com/profile)[slashyvalentine](https://slashyvalentine.livejournal.com/) 2005 challenge and [](https://claudia603.livejournal.com/profile)[claudia603](https://claudia603.livejournal.com/), who requested gritty angst/darkfic. Thanks to [](https://azewewish.livejournal.com/profile)[azewewish](https://azewewish.livejournal.com/) for the beta and the tips.
> 
> Content/Warnings: Humiliation, exhibition, mild pain, fairly dark.

There isn’t much to do after a late night of shooting besides watch porn, especially when you’re too tired to hang out with friends at one of the local pubs, or when you’ve had a few drinks with said friends at one of the local pubs, and are now pleasantly buzzed but still too wired to fall asleep immediately. And Elijah is a healthy young male; he likes porn, he likes naked women, and he likes sex. Masturbation is kind of sex, and even more so when it is accompanied by watching beautiful naked women taking it in any number of positions and situations.

He hasn’t quite gotten started yet tonight, just sort of rubbing himself through his trousers and getting in the mood while a buxom blonde slowly unbuttons her blouse, licking her lips at the camera and exhaling breathily as a prelude to what Elijah knows will be outright panting and moaning in about thirty or forty seconds. The blonde is reaching inside her shirt, and Elijah is just about to bypass the first layer and start fondling himself through his boxers, when the doorbell rings.

It’s one of those moments that you dread, and then forget to dread, and then that’s when it actually happens. Elijah starts guiltily, jerking his hand away from his crotch, and fumbles with the remote to press ‘power off’ before jumping up and lunging for the door, not wanting to give anyone the wrong – right – idea by taking too long to answer.

He opens the door and is honestly so surprised that for a moment, the words don’t come. “Sean,” he manages finally, because he would have expected a hobbit at this time of night, or very possibly maybe Orlando, if he was drunk enough and lonely for company, but the Men don’t tend, as a general rule, to seek out the companionship of the younger crowd. Particularly not unannounced, at nearly ten-thirty at night.

Sean grins, as if Elijah should know why he’s here, and hefts a six-pack of bottles in one hand to show Elijah the label on the side. “I brought an offering,” he explains, and when Elijah just stands there and blinks at him, he finally loses the grin and smiles a bit quizzically. “Was this a closed party? Dom told me about it, said I was welcome to come, but if it’s not…”

Elijah’s brain finally clicks into gear, and he steps back, running a hand through already-disheveled hair. “Oh, shit. That got changed to Billy’s, man, I told them I was done for tonight. I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were planning on coming, or I would have made sure that you knew…” He shrugs apologetically, stomach sinking at the thought of having more people showing up tonight, not having heard about the last-minute change in plans. “I’m so sorry,” he says again, and shifts his weight from one foot to the other, hesitating. “Do you want to come in? I can give you directions, if you haven’t been there before…”

“Nah, it’s all right,” Sean interrupts, waving his free hand in dismissal. “I think I know the way. It’s up on Dahlia, right? Just over the hill?”

Elijah nods, and Sean chuckles, good humored even with the news that he’s missing the party because he was left out of the loop. Elijah gives him mental points for being generally staunch and affable, and is just about to offer another lame apology when Sean continues speaking. “Sorry for interrupting your evening, and I hope you get a good night’s rest. God knows you’ve been working hard enough.”

And then his gaze flicks over Elijah’s shoulder, into the house, and he smiles slowly. “Enjoy your…entertainment,” Sean finishes, and time seems to move in slow motion as Elijah puts together the direction of Sean’s gaze, and the look on his face, and the suggestiveness of his words…and turns to look over his shoulder into the living room.

And, well, shit. The blonde is fucking herself on a rather large purple dildo, and her mouth is open, head thrown back, but there are no sounds emerging. He must have hit ‘mute’ by mistake. Shit, shit, shit.

“I, uh,” Elijah attempts, and then rushes the few steps back to the couch to turn the goddamn thing off before Sean sees any more. And could he possibly be any more embarrassed right now? The only worse thing would have been for Sean to have actually caught him with his cock in his hand, or – God forbid – with a stiffie. Thank God that isn’t going to happen now; he couldn’t be any less aroused if he was at church with his mother.

Elijah finally fumbles the television off, but when he manages to overcome the worst of his blushing, he realizes that Sean has followed him in. “Which one is this?” Sean asks from nearby, and Elijah jumps before he can catch himself, and turns with his face flaming to see Sean idly turning over the case for the video in one hand. Elijah stands mute, and Sean turns to him with a lascivious wink. “Is it any good, then?”

From some hidden reservoir, Elijah manages to find some pluck. “I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “You interrupted before it got interesting.”

Sean laughs, and tosses the tape case back onto the couch, which is thankfully devoid of any other incriminating evidence such as empty condom wrappers or lube sachets. “Right you are,” he replies cheerfully, and shifts the beers to his other hand as he straightens. “Have fun, then, and I’ll see you in the morning. Sorry for the mix-up.”

“No problem,” Elijah answers faintly, and even manages a dazed sort of wave and smile as Sean leaves, hand raised in friendly farewell. Elijah locks the door behind him, and doesn’t move until he hears Sean’s car start, engine rumbling and then growing softer, headlights fading until the car is out of sight and there is no one on the street, nothing but nighttime quiet.

It all seems very surreal, almost like it never happened, but that doesn’t stop Elijah from ejecting the video and hiding it on the shelf behind his collection of horror films and documentaries, and going to bed without his hand straying anywhere near his cock.

* * *

No one says a word to him about it in the morning, not a single joke or comment, and Elijah knows that the other hobbits wouldn’t be able to contain themselves if they knew, which means that Sean must be keeping it mum and acting like a mate, which is more than Elijah could have hoped for and honestly one hell of a relief. He’s a bit awkward the entire day, especially around Sean, but during a short break Sean finds time to amble over and give him a manly sort of half-hug, hand clapped on his shoulder, and tells him not to worry about it. It’s easier after that, and there’s almost a buzzing anticipation, which grows increasingly strong as the evening progresses, to go home and watch the video.

He begs off drinks with some of the guys and goes home to the accompaniment of much good-natured ribbing, but Sean doesn’t bid him farewell with a glint in his eye, or a knowing wink, or anything other than honest goodwill, which only leaves Elijah more grateful, and more eager to go home and finally get to certain neglected business. He dilly-dallies a while once he’s in the door, fussing with mail and keys and a can of Dr. Pepper, but eventually the urge becomes too strong for him to prevaricate over, so he jams the tape into the player and turns the television on, to be greeted without any preamble by the blonde just about to come, calling out nonsense words as she rides the dildo to what looks like a slick finish.

There’s another scene after that one, of course, which doesn’t seem related in any way except that it has the blonde again, this time with a well-muscled, well-hung guy behind her, warming her up with his hands rolling and squeezing her breasts while she pants, pushing back against him. Elijah settles into the couch with a tiny sigh, and slides his hand inside his boxers right as the muscled guy lines up and slams home with one hard thrust.

It’s all right, but it isn’t riveting, and after a while Elijah realizes that his mind is drifting. His cock is hard, but not really interested, and he’s thinking about last night, and Sean walking in; and in an idly curious sort of way, about Sean walking in right now, with Elijah doing this, and the blonde on the screen taking it enthusiastically from a guy with a cock the size of Olympus.

It’s embarrassing; he can feel himself flushing hotly around his collar, but his cock also jerks a little in response, and that’s more embarrassing, but somehow that also makes it hotter. He lets himself think of Sean, just to have something to think about, licking his lips and imagining Sean in the scene, slamming into the blonde again and again, stoically grunting and pistoning forward while the blonde screams like a cat in heat and her breasts wobble and swing beneath her body, her head pulled up so the camera can catch the way her eyes fly open when he yanks her back onto his cock.

Sean would be better than this, Elijah muses as his hand finds its own slow rhythm, pulling in measured strokes over his cock. Sean would know how to touch a woman, how to really get her going, and he wouldn’t need to get rough like the guy on the screen, all brute force and no finesse. Although Sean might also like force, could probably get off on having it rough, in that casual strength way that Elijah doesn’t think he himself will ever be capable of.

The scene changes without warning, and suddenly the blonde is on her back with her legs in the air, knees over the guy’s shoulders, and Elijah’s eyes narrow to slits and he slouches down, stroking harder now, watching the guy’s cock disappear inside the blonde. Elijah wishes they would do something, make it interesting, because the sex angle is getting old. Sean would be doing something, he thinks, not just grunting and thrusting, and his eyes close for a split second as he imagines Sean with the blonde, imagines him giving it to her rough but without caring, just taking her, slapping her breasts and pinching her butt, and he’s shuddering before he realizes he’s even close.

Going down, he thinks desperately, lips parting as his strokes speed up, eyes closed and tuning out everything but the blonde’s breathy cries, Sean going down on her, really going to town and making her scream, using his tongue, and then that’s all there is because Elijah’s mind blanks out and he comes, easy and good, and he blinks dazedly in the aftermath and wonders if this was really an appropriate fantasy to be having while jerking off.

Onscreen, the blonde is still taking it, this time sideways, up on one knee with the guy holding her other leg up in the air, and Elijah sighs and turns the video off. He doesn’t need it, now, and the film hadn’t really done anything for him anyway. Sean had, but Sean isn’t likely to appear in a porn video – although wouldn’t that make some money if he did – which leaves Elijah in need of new masturbation material. He’ll hit the store tomorrow, he decides, and closes his eyes again, lazily wiping his hand off on a nearby handful of tissues. Find something more interesting.

After all, he can’t let Sean catch him with boring porn twice.

* * *

Elijah goes through the day after that thinking that all is forgotten, but apparently it hasn’t been, because the following morning Sean pulls him aside after makeup and grins, bending down to say in a low voice, “I left something for you in your trailer. Thought you might enjoy it.” He straightens with a wink, and at Elijah’s completely clueless and shell-shocked look, adds, “It’s one of my favorites. Consider it an apology gift, of sorts.” And then he jams his hands into his pockets and strolls off, leaving Elijah hot and flustered in his wake.

He approaches his trailer with no little apprehension, expecting God knows what; a surprise party at his expense with all of the hobbits plus Peter and Fran in attendance to mock him, or maybe just lewd photos that one of the others will have dropped by and seen, expecting to find him there, or even a television up and running, with some anonymous blonde getting the breath fucked out of her by a muscle-bound guy who looks suspiciously like Sean Bean.

But there’s nothing, only an innocuous brown paper bag set out of the way on one of his chairs, on top of a heap of clothing and other assorted clutter. It doesn’t look suspicious at all, which doesn’t keep Elijah from jumping when his PA sticks her head in to give him a five-minute call, but does at least leave him some dignity to say thank you after she’s already closed the door and gone.

After a good five minutes of deliberation, curiosity is suppressed in favor of good sense, which warns him that looking at porn first thing in the morning isn’t the best start to a workday. He jams the paper bag into his carry-all, and determinedly sets it out of his mind until the end of the day’s filming. He even agrees to go out with the other hobbits for drinks afterwards, although he cuts the evening short after just a long enough period to keep from looking suspicious, and returns home pleasantly buzzed, with one hand laying protectively over his zippered carry-all.

Not looking at the porn hasn’t stopped him from wondering about it, and he’s come up with a few – he has viewed quite a bit, after all, and he does have a healthy imagination – possible scenarios for the kind of film that a man like Sean might consider a favorite. Maybe something with hugely muscular men and dainty women, some roleplay kind of thing, or maybe – his breath stops for just a split second, throat dry – whips and chains, a leather-bound S&M deal. He could see Sean being into that. He could see Sean with a whip, or a…whatever the fuck you call them, those strappy things…and some chick handcuffed to the bed, begging for him.

It’s a good thing he’s out of the cab and on his way up the walk by this point, because his cock has been ruthlessly ignored all day, and is now making up for the lack of attention with a vengeance. Keys fumbled into the lock, and he’s in, not even making a pretense at doing anything else this time, just dumping the carry-all onto the couch and turning on the television with a quick tap on the remote.

The video case in the bag turns out to be disappointingly bland, just a title printed across the front – _Madame X_ \- and a blank videocassette with the manufacturer’s stamp on the upper-right-hand corner. Elijah allows himself a brief moment of disgruntlement, because he _had_ after all been good and not looked, so it seems there should now be some sort of immediate visual reward for his patience, but only a moment, because then he’s on his hands and knees on the carpet, popping the tape in and sliding back to lean against the couch, hand already massaging his thigh through the material of his jeans.

It takes a minute of pseudo-eerie, cheesy music before the screen fades into colour, and there’s the usual prelude…a girl walks in, acting very mysterious, shrouded in a 1930’s-era fur coat, and some dialogue with the housekeeper, a French maid wearing a uniform whose skirt doesn’t quite conceal the curves of her bare ass beneath the fishnets, and Madame X – who introduces herself with maximum fanfare and dramatic flair – inquires if the master is in. The maid says he isn’t, and Madame says good…Elijah blinks…because the mistress is.

Elijah feels a little like laughing, mostly because the nervous and slightly guilty, as always, anticipation is still bubbling up, but the sound is strangled, choked back when the fur coat drops to the floor, and Madame X – tossing her hair free of its net and striking a pose – is revealed completely naked, in only high-heels and…Jesus Christ…a strap-on dildo.

 _Lesbians_ , Elijah thinks faintly, hand scooting a little closer to his now-completely hard cock. Sean likes lesbians. Specifically, it would seem, dominatrix lesbians, and now Elijah isn’t bothering to wait for the girls to start the real action, because the maid is on her knees with her frilly little French blouse open, and just the look on her face has Elijah reaching for his cock.

Normally, Elijah would put himself into the middle of the scene, imagine himself as the guy, doing whatever it is that the guy is doing to the girl, but now…well, he has two options, really, and both of them have breasts. It’s not like he hasn’t seen lesbian porn before, of course he has. It’s just…usually there’s a guy involved. There’s no point in watching chicks make out, unless it serves as a warm-up to one or both of them getting nailed later on.

Which could still happen, admittedly. But right now…right now it’s just the girls, and it looks like it’s going to stay that way, because now they’re in the bedroom, a fancy red-satin boudoir overhung with lace drapery, and they’ve skipped the usual breast-rubbing and tongue-tangling, and gone straight for the fucking.

Elijah’s brain tries to wrap itself around this situation, and, lacking a male to substitute himself in for, he decides to focus on seeing himself screwing the maid, who is on her back with her spine arched tantalizingly and at least eight inches of hard latex inside her.

But it’s Madame X who catches his eye and holds it, the mysterious woman with the almond-shaped eyes and long, red nails, which draw scores up the maid’s sides in dark pink as Elijah watches, fascinated and breathless. He can’t stop watching her, and unfortunately it’s a short jump from that to imagining her above him, tying his wrists, scratching his skin and…

He can’t quite make the leap to being fucked by a woman, because he isn’t made like that, he has the parts to fuck, rather than be fucked…which isn’t strictly true, at least not as some guys would see it, but that’s where Elijah tends to draw the line. He can see her over him, though, maybe riding him, or maybe just grinding, teasing…

He wonders how Sean watches this movie, and if he imagines what it must be like with the Madame, the beautiful woman with the almond eyes, cherry lips, so sweet and so dangerous. He can’t see Sean being that passive, though; Sean’s always struck him as the ultimate manly guy, the man’s man, the one who’s never let a woman take control in his life, because they’re all busy swooning over him.

Sean’s the Madame X, the one on top; and suddenly Elijah has a flash of that, of Sean with the maid, but he’s been substituting for the maid, and it all gets tangled until Elijah is just mindlessly jerking off, eyes pressed shut against the intrusion of dark, doe eyes and bare breasts, and Sean’s chest, muscles standing out in his arms as he moves…

There’s a line, Elijah reminds himself a bit frantically, as the tension in his body ratchets a little higher in preparation for the release. And somewhere back there, he’s just crossed it. He shouldn’t be fantasizing about Sean Bean naked and hovering over him, shouldn’t be wondering what it would feel like to have Sean between his legs; shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t…

He comes when the girls do, flustered and more than a little in shock, and has no clue what to do next. Onscreen, the lovers are making out, curled sweaty and sated around each other during what Elijah is sure is only a temporary break. He can’t handle any more tonight, though, so he switches the television off and kills the power on the VCR from his place on the floor, pushing remote buttons with shaking fingers.

It’s Sean’s fault, surely. It’s Sean’s video, that’s the only reason Elijah was thinking about him. Sean’s the one who walked in on him, so to speak, and started this whole thing. That’s the only reason Elijah is, or would ever, think about Sean like that. While jerking off.

He cleans up and goes to sleep with his mind still a swirl of confusion and what he would swear isn’t denial, if that didn’t suggest it is. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, at the very threshold of sleep, is the decision to do some experimenting when he’s less shaken up, more on top of himself and his reactions. That’s the best way to disprove any theories regarding a possible attraction to a male co-star. Right?

He falls asleep before he can fully assure himself that it is.

* * *

It’s a dream, but it’s one of those bizarre half-dreams, the ones where you know you’re dreaming, and you don’t really have control, but there’s an awareness you don’t usually have in dreams, an added element of recognition that it’s not real.

He’s giving Sean a blowjob…and it’s not just any blowjob; it’s a porn blowjob, all tongue and no suction, licking instead of sucking, making a show of it. And everything reeks of sex, of sweat and come and spit, and Elijah’s mouth slides saliva-slick over Sean’s cock, taking him in deeper, only he’s thinking the entire time about the camera, and where he has to be for the film to show, and which angle he has to tilt head at, in order for them both to be seen. He _wants_ to be seen, but he’s also the slightest bit ashamed, because he’s completely naked, and he knows that somewhere out there in the darkness is a camera, watching his every move.

Sean tilts his hips, showing off his cock, and Elijah moans the way he knows he’s supposed to, expressing his enjoyment verbally and transmitting the sound through Sean’s body, so that Sean’s shudder shows Elijah’s pleasure. Sean doesn’t falter, though, just stands stoically while Elijah moans and whimpers like a whore, trailing his tongue over every available inch of Sean’s cock until it’s glistening, and he thinks the camera will be able to pick that up, especially the saliva smeared on his cheek and chin. There’s a light on above them, flood-white spotlight, and everything else is dark, the camera hidden in the dim distance while Elijah is blinded by the lamp.

In the dream, Sean runs a hand over his face, and Elijah turns to meet it, feel it cupping his cheek, warm but hard. He pulls off of Sean’s cock to lick his palm, and it tastes like salt-sweat, like Sean. Sean doesn’t smile, just watches him, with glittering eyes, and Elijah becomes more desperate, sucking frantically, because he knows that their time is almost up, and Sean needs to come so they can film it, can see Elijah getting him off on his knees, one hand gripping the base of Sean’s cock and the other cupping his ass, kneading the flesh as he works.

Sean pulls back, and that’s the signal; Elijah arches and Sean comes on him, splatter-splash of semen on his naked chest, and it burns where it touches him, because he’s cold, so cold…

Elijah wakes up and remembers everything in vivid detail, and for a few seconds he just lies still and shivers, pulling the blankets up from where he’s kicked them to the foot of the bed, allowing his eyes to slowly adjust to the dark so that he doesn’t have to close them again. Dreams fade, but right now this one is still too sharp, with too many edges. There is something unidentified in it, although he’s not trying to analyze. But there had been a feeling…and he almost wants that back.

It’s 4:30 AM, and everyone he knows here is fast asleep. He can’t even begin to calculate the time difference to L.A., and there’s no one there he wants to talk to anyway. He could go back to sleep, but that seems the easiest way to invite more dreams, and Sean’s body is too clear in his mind right now, the taste of Sean’s engorged cock still salty and bitter, heavy, on his tongue. You dream about what you think about, obviously. He needs to stop watching porn before bed.

The birds are going to start singing soon. He’s learned this from previous drunken nights out, stumbling home in the early hours of the morning. If he wants to catch any more sleep, he needs to do it now.

Dreams fade. This one has faded almost by the time he closes his eyes.

* * *

Filming in the morning is slightly awkward, but Elijah blames a late night, and Sean takes it with easy grace, clapping him on the back and expressing his sympathies that Elijah isn’t feeling his usual chipper self. Elijah smiles wanly and slips out of reach whenever he can, and by an hour into the shoot everyone has picked up on the body language and is leaving him alone.

He’s fine with Sean, fine with Boromir until they get to the scene where Boromir first picks up the ring that has fallen from Frodo’s neck, and Elijah is already shaking like a leaf and squinting against the dry, itchy flakes that are getting trapped in his eyelashes, and he sees the shift. He _sees_ the lust, the dark, seductive power, and he sees the barely-leashed fury in Sean’s eyes. And he completely, utterly freezes up.

Everyone is understanding, and after a full minute of watching Elijah tremble and stare at Sean like a deer in headlights, Peter calls cut and they take a breather while setting up to shoot the scene again. His PA is standing by with a blanket, wigs and wardrobe both jump in to clean away fake snowflakes while he recovers, and everyone takes turns telling him that it’s all right, every actor is overcome by emotion once in a while, especially in scenes like this one, and that’s what makes it art.

Only it isn’t art, and he wishes that they would all stop being so understanding, because he feels like a fraud. He hadn’t been acting. He’d been looking at Sean, not Boromir, and he’d wanted – so badly that he can still taste it, so badly that he’s shaking again – for Sean to hit him, hard. Backhand him across the face, send him reeling into the snow, instead of harnessing the greed and lust, and dropping the ring with forced nonchalance back into Elijah’s palm.

He can see his lip splitting, and Sean yanking him to his feet to lick up the blood, and the whole scenario is terrifying, even more so because it’s also intensely arousing, and Elijah just doesn’t know how to deal with that. It’s not a normal fantasy, not anything he’s ever even remotely wanted before, but now that he’s had the thought, it stays with him, pressing and _demanding_ , until Elijah wants to scream just to get out some of the emotion.

“Let it go,” someone says quietly in his ear, and Elijah turns in slow-motion to face Ian, who is watching him with Gandalf’s ancient eyes and an actor’s professional wisdom. He wants to open his mouth, confess, beg for help, explain that he doesn’t know how…but he does. It’s acting, and he’s been doing it since he was a child, as easily as breathing. Elijah swallows and nods, exhaling slowly, and Ian smiles. “Good boy.”

Elijah blinks dazedly, starting to return to calmness, and Viggo nods for him to return to the scene. “Ready?” Peter calls distractedly, looking forward as ever to the next take, the next scene. The next item on the agenda. Elijah nods again, this time with more determination, and disappears into his role. When Sean faces him down this time, Elijah can still see Sean in his mind’s eye, sweaty and angered, arm raised…but he doesn’t even blink.

* * *

Elijah heads straight for the video store after shooting wraps for the day, but he doesn’t make a decision right away. He loiters in the porn section, pretending to check out the rack of blowjob and tit-fucking compilations, but his eyes are furtively glancing to the shelf next to that one, the one whose stars are men-only. He’s never seen gay porn, and he won’t be caught checking one out, but he does look, gaze ensnared by the photographs of glistening male bodies, the perfectly toned and cut muscles on every box displayed. He’s never seen porn guys who look like that before, and he’s so tempted, fingers itching to just snatch a box and sneak a quick peek while no one is looking.

In the end he doesn’t go through with it, just selects a video at random with a fairly pretty girl on the front, one with blue eyes and blonde hair who looks nothing like a real woman, but he’ll pretend all the same, suspension of disbelief, and there’s sure to be a guy with a big cock in it, and the really frustrating part is that Elijah can’t figure out which one of them is the real reason he’s picking up this video tonight.

He selects another one on the way out as an afterthought, a film he’s seen once before and remembers, vaguely, remembers liking the girl, and that there was a scene with her being spanked that he had thought was hot. Movies chosen, he drives home and plunks down onto the couch in his regular spot, turning on the VCR and slouching into the cushions as the picture slowly fades in.

When Sean enters his head this time, Elijah doesn’t even try to fight it, letting his eyes glaze as he slowly strokes himself and watches the girl on the screen toss her head, hair cascading down her back as her partner bends his head to lick her clit. She’s panting noisily, and Elijah’s a million miles away, on his knees again, doing what she’s doing now, striving to please.

He’s fantasizing Sean in his mind, and it’s not the fact that Sean is a guy that bothers him, honestly, or even the fact that it’s _Sean_ …because everyone is at least slightly attracted to Sean Bean, even if they claim otherwise. He’s a charismatic guy, and he drips sex appeal. It would be stupid and pointless to deny that. But what bothers him, what’s knotting him up right now, watching the guy in the film drive full-tilt into the girl from behind, is what he wants Sean to do to him.

He doesn’t want Sean to kiss him, or caress him, or do any of the stuff that the porn-girls seem to love. He wants to get dirtier than that, to have Sean hit him and bite him, to lick Sean’s cock, to beg for Sean and scream when he gets what he wants. He wants the graphic version, the porn videos that they don’t water down, the ones where the girl is flushed red and says ‘no’, even when she means ‘yes’, and by the end she’s always screaming that, whether she claimed to want it or not.

When the guy in the film brings the palm of his hand down hard onto the girl’s ass for the first time, Elijah’s cock jerks, and he closes his eyes for a brief second, only to reopen them so that he can see her squirm, see the red handprint left behind, skin splotched and heated. There’s another smack, and another, and by the time the guy starts really spanking her in earnest, Elijah is moaning and gasping, fist working in double-time as his orgasm builds.

Fantasy-Sean is still with him, though, and he can see Sean denying him, groans aloud in protest even as he jerks his hand away to keep himself from coming and clenches his fist in the couch cushion. Because he wants that, too, wants Sean to deny him, to torture him with arousal and still leave him hard and begging, pleading for release. Sean wouldn’t care, would laugh mockingly and have Elijah finish him off with his mouth, and then he would come on Elijah’s face and have him lick them both clean.

The spanking onscreen is over, and now…he’d forgotten, somehow, he’d completely forgotten that this was what came next, but the guy is pushing into the girl from behind now, her hair swept over one shoulder so that the camera can do a close-up of her face, tight with pain and concentration, and then it cuts to the guy’s cock, slowly disappearing into her bright red ass. And Elijah doesn’t care that he was denying himself, he needs to come now, and he squeezes his eyes closed but can still see it, see the girl’s ass clenching around a thick cock, and he bucks into his fist and comes, biting his tongue so hard that he can taste blood.

The girl screams on the television, and Elijah opens his eyes to see the guy ramming into her, so hard that she jerks forward and almost loses her balance, and if he hadn’t just come, he would now, but all he can do is shudder and moan in sympathy as her breasts jiggle and sway beneath her, as the guy lines up again and thrusts home hard.

Elijah’s crossed the line now, and he doesn’t even care. He can see himself in her place now, dazed and blissed-out, with a cock in her ass and – oh, oh God, oh God yes – another in her mouth, as a second guy steps into the frame and she opens to take him in, spit lubricating his shaft as the guy behind her drives her forward onto the other guy’s cock, again and again. He can’t stop trembling, post-orgasm shocks still rippling through him, and he can’t stop watching. He wants to be used like that, and it seems so easy, so simple to just strip himself naked and let two guys have their way with him.

And he knows who one of them would be, because he can’t stop thinking about it, seeing it, imagining Sean in his very own porn feature, stark naked and brutal, completely impassive as Elijah tries desperately to please him, sucking him and opening for him, taking him in so deep that Elijah wouldn’t be able to breathe or think, only moan…

He’s hard again before the end of the film, and he strokes off more slowly this time, fist sliding in spit, eyes fixed on the on-screen gang bang taking place while he fantasizes Sean coming on him, in him, all over him, and himself doing nothing but beg for more.

* * *

“Late night?” Viggo asks, and his black king jumps two of Elijah’s red checkers, which he removes from the board without really looking. He glances down once, but focuses on Elijah’s eyes, with that un-intrusive but curious look that Viggo gets sometimes, the one that means he cares. Elijah shrugs, and keeps his chin down, concentrating on the board as if he’s actually forming some sort of strategy. He’s shrouded in three layers of clothing and a pullover hoodie, and he’s still freezing. Wardrobe hasn’t been called in yet; they’re fighting the rain, cold and wet, and possibly changing the schedule. Peter’s in a meeting now, an impromptu production huddle beneath the largest white canvas tent.

Elijah slides a checker forward and leaves it there, bringing his finger to his mouth to worry at a nail. A long time ago, or at least so it seems now, Viggo had decided that Elijah was too young to play chess. They’d settled on checkers as an age-appropriate substitute, and still play every now and again, with the miniature travel set that Viggo carries on slow shooting days.

“Something on your mind?” Viggo inquires mildly, and Elijah hesitates before shrugging again, and then shaking his head as an afterthought. Viggo’s smile is wry, the curves at the corners of his lips calling Elijah’s bluff, but he doesn’t press. He says instead, “A few of us are getting together tonight, if you want to come,” and Elijah knows that he really does care, and is showing that in the only way Viggo does, offhanded but genuine, tiny displays of affection.

“Thanks,” Elijah responds finally, and Viggo pauses for the end of the sentence, poised to take another of Elijah’s pieces. “But I don’t think so, tonight.”

The king jumps again, and Elijah chews on his lip while he surveys the board, feigning an interest in the outcome that he honestly doesn’t feel. It’s a slow process, talking to Viggo, but one that is nearly always rewarding. Viggo is patient, and when you have something that you want to say but are having trouble putting into words, patience is the perfect attribute.

“What do you do,” Elijah begins meditatively, sliding a checker along the diagonal, “If you want something, or you think you do, but it’s not something you’re supposed to want?’

Viggo examines the new configuration of red and black discs, and finally moves his king back a space in carefully plotted retreat. “I would say there’s no such thing as what you’re ‘supposed to’ want,” he responds at last, and Elijah reaches immediately to press his advantage, backing the king up another space.

“What about…” He pauses, considering the right word choice, and finally settles on, “Something you know you can’t have, because it doesn’t exist?”

Viggo half-smiles, still looking at the board, and Elijah bites his nail while waiting for a determination. “I would like to fly,” Viggo comments idly, and his king slips back into the safety zone, bordered by black guards. “Should I not want that, just because it’s considered impossible?”

Elijah opens his mouth and closes it again, unable to find a way around that logic. “So it’s an unfulfilled desire,” he clarifies, finger hovering uncertainly over his red scout. “And will remain that way.”

It seems impractical, and not a little frustrating, being given permission in this way to hang onto something that won’t ever become reality, just because there might be a chance. There isn’t a chance, he’s sure of that. Sean likes women, and Sean is probably an ardent and considerate lover. He’s not brutal and dominating, the way Elijah fantasizes him. He’s a…well, as the Brit cast members would say, he’s a mate.

Viggo shakes his head, and now he meets Elijah’s eyes, smile gentle. “I would say it’s a dream,” he suggests, and Elijah blinks, taken by surprise. Viggo chuckles, although Elijah isn’t sure what has moved him to mirth, and one of his pieces pushes forward to set up the demise of Elijah’s two last checkers. “And everyone should have dreams.”

Elijah nods, and they pause for a moment, the wait before the inevitable, while Elijah mulls it over and Viggo looks off into the distance. Then Elijah says, “Thank you,” and pushes his checker into the only space it can occupy, and Viggo jumps both remaining red discs and clears the board.

“You’re welcome,” Viggo answers courteously, and there’s silence for another minute while they stack the pieces and – by silent agreement – return them to the box. Viggo speaks again just as Elijah is standing up to leave, tilting his head up idly to look at Elijah as he talks.

“Sean is leaving in two days,” he says in reminder, hand resting securely and comfortably on his sword pommel. “We’re going to have a barbecue, if you want to put it in your schedule. Friday night.”

“Thanks,” Elijah replies automatically, and hopes that he doesn’t look as thrown as he feels. He answers Viggo’s unspoken question with a quick-flashed smile and a nod. “I’ll be there.”

Inwardly, though, he thinks that he would prefer to keep the dream.

* * *

The television is on, but Elijah doesn’t see what’s happening. He has his eyes closed, hearing the over-dubbed moans while his mind spins out a different fantasy than the one in the porno film. In his head, he’s on his back, knees bent beneath him so that his spine arches awkwardly and his pelvis is pushed forward, and he’s covered in chocolate syrup. There’s whipped cream on his nipples, his navel, the fluff of hair over his pubic bone. He’s a living feast.

And Sean is trailing strawberries through the sticky mess on his body, tickling Elijah with the soft ripeness, itching his skin without satisfying him by a real touch. Elijah moans as loudly as he can because he isn’t permitted to speak, and Sean ignores him, swirling a strawberry across his nipple, making him ache and arch higher.

Sean sucks the strawberry into his mouth and picks up the bottle of chocolate syrup, holds it up high to drizzle more across Elijah’s torso, looping it casually over Elijah’s aching cock. Elijah starts to speak, foolishly, and Sean slaps him, slaps his cock, and tears sting his eyes but the humiliation is good, it’s real, and it only makes him harder.

Sean is magnificently nude, chiseled muscles standing out in his chest, his stomach. Elijah doesn’t need to look lower, he already knows what’s there, hard and ready for him. Sean only needs to give the order, and Elijah will be on his knees, cheeks burning but eager in spite of that, licking and sucking until Sean comes on his face, his chest; smearing semen into the mess of flavors already on Elijah’s skin.

Sean angles the bottle and squirts, chocolate saliva, and Elijah flinches and then moans as the syrup trickles, slow and sticky, down the crack of his ass. He knows what Sean wants, what the director wants…the voices, out there in the darkness, whispering directions and ideas. None of them praise him, but he’s proud anyway, especially when Sean pauses to drag a plump strawberry down Elijah’s cock all the way to the root, and then lower, following the trail of syrup.

Sean smiles as he slides the fruit through the syrup, and Elijah shudders hard, knowing what’s coming but unable – unwilling – to stop it. Sean’s thumb marks the spot, and then he presses _in_ , shoves the strawberry into Elijah’s body and laughs when Elijah mewls plaintively in response.

The director makes a comment, maybe a suggestion, and Elijah remembers to tilt his head for the camera, so that they can see him, get his face in the light. He can’t move, though, and his whole body is trembling, agonized from holding the awkward position and burning from the lack of serious attention.

Sean reaches over, and there….there…a hand on his cock, working him, starting slow but speeding up, hard and rough, the grip too tight, and Elijah whimpers until it all becomes too much, until he would give everything in his power to be allowed to beg, and then he starts screaming. He comes all over, in an arc the camera couldn’t have missed, and Sean smiles again, slowly, while Elijah slumps, exhausted, to the floor.

And then he flips Elijah over with rough, calloused hands, and his fingers push in and twist, mangling the strawberry, and Elijah’s floating too high to care when Sean lines up and thrusts in, grunting, but he does remember to lift his head, so the camera can see his face while Sean fucks him, slowly and thoroughly, until the director says it’s enough.

Even though it never is.

* * *

It’s six in the evening, and Sean’s plane is leaving in twenty-five minutes. Elijah knows because Sean gave him the itinerary, just in case he wanted to say goodbye, because Elijah hadn’t been feeling well enough to attend the barbecue in his honor. Elijah marked it down dutifully, even though it’s ingrained on his mind, and now the numbers mock him from the hanging calendar on the wall.

He could go to the airport, see Sean off, maybe even say something about how he’s been feeling lately. But he won’t, he already knows that. This is his personal fantasy, not for public consumption, and not for anyone to take away with a puzzled look and a sad, regretful smile. Sean’s too nice to shoot him down, too worldly to be shocked, but Elijah already knows how he would respond. He’s played out the conversation in his head a hundred times at night in bed, and it always ends the same way.

Elijah drops in front of the VCR and pushes in a film, at random from the top of the stack he rented the day before yesterday. The music plays on a black screen as he rearranges himself on the floor with his back against the couch, and by the time he’s unzipped, the picture is slowly fading in.

There’s an anonymous and well-proportioned girl on the screen, and an average-looking, anonymous guy. Elijah closes his eyes and plays his own movie, accompanied by music and moaning. He jerks himself off and sees Sean, hurting him, tormenting him, bringing him to the edge of rapture again and again. They’re porn stars together, perfectly matched, and the spotlight is always on them.

Elijah wants to call Sean’s name when he comes; but when he opens his mouth, there’s nothing there.


End file.
